


The Theorem of Stars

by AmelieofK



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmelieofK/pseuds/AmelieofK
Summary: In the world of music and muse, Hanbin was the anomaly. While his mind could work out writing and composing songs for Junhoe, he could never relate it to the workings of his own heart. Not until he realised that he had been looking at it the wrong way.
Relationships: Goo Junhoe/Kim Hanbin | B.I
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	The Theorem of Stars

**_‘Ladies and gentlemen, the flight from Los Angeles has safely landed in Incheon International. Passengers will be exiting from Gate E-twenty-five in fifteen minutes. Thank you.’_ **

Hanbin looked up from the magazine he had been reading. He was already sitting on the benches near gate E25. He had been there for almost half an hour and was immersed going through a very interesting article about how stars are formed and ultimately self-destructs. He glances at his Swatch, the one which matches with his younger sister and decided that he would just continue reading the article while he waits. Five minutes into the next paragraph and a murmur began to fill the entrance to the gate. It formed and swell collectively. Then came the familiar shout,

“There he is! That’s him! That’s Koo Junhoe!” Then more screams, this time followed by the flurry of shutters and lights from cameras from fans and reporters alike. Hanbin closed the magazine, folding it in half and glanced at the gate’s entrance. Junhoe was strutting towards the entrance. Despite the face mask, his eyes lighted keenly when he sighted Hanbin’s tall figure from behind the mob that had formed at the gate’s entryway. Hanbin snorted inwardly at the way Junhoe waved. It was just a scattered, wiggle of his fingers. Two of his fingers anyway, because the rest were gripping his passport tightly, yet Hanbin had not realised just how much he missed the sight of Junhoe doing it. The bodyguards flanking Junhoe formed a human wall of arms and feet as he emerged into the throng of fangirls and reporters.

_“Oppa, you’re so handsome!”_

_“Oppa, marry me!”_

_“Junhoe! Junhoe! I LOVE YOU!”_

The declarations of endless love was unstoppable. Hanbin could already guess that there would be a slew of pictures tomorrow parading Junhoe’s famous eye smiles; fan sites extolling about how despite the mask, Junhoe had a smile which could conquer Rome and the likes.

Hanbin totally agreed with the sentiment.

Junhoe too, only had eyes for Hanbin. Just seeing him dressed casually in a black buttoned blouse and pants, with his hair still partially damp, probably after a shower, it was hard to believe that it had been two months since he last saw his lover of three years. The only difference Junhoe could discern was how much longer his midnight black hair had grown to cover his nape and perhaps, he had bulked up a little since the last time Junhoe saw him. They both took the last few steps towards each other and all they could do right then, was to just get themselves lost within each other’s gazes.

Junhoe loving how Hanbin’s almost dimples had formed, making those normally thin cheeks looked slightly rounder, when they were pushed up by the curve of his beatific smile.

Hanbin already envisioning the birth of a sunrise from beneath the thin veil of that cotton face mask Junhoe had on. He also knew Junhoe had hurried to the airport immediately after his last show, simply by the fact that he was still wearing the hairstyle which had been set for him, combed to the side and pushed back to reveal the upper half of that gorgeously crafted face.

The ride home was silent. Hanbin steered the Jeep slowly and they began cruising down the highway, serenaded by Taeyang’s Darling. They were holding hands over the glovebox by the time they exited the highway. There did not seem to be much talking and that was how they were most days, which was surprising for composers and lyricist like them.

Junhoe welcomed the silence though. It was comfortable and just the two of them basking in each other’s company after such a long separation.

Hanbin was always in awe of Junhoe’s beauty and just silently appraising its existence for the last two years had been both a curse and a boon. Perhaps that was why he had been most productive musically for the past few years. In Junhoe, he found a muse and a love which transcended his passion to create.

The automated gate took forever to open and Hanbin was more than relieved when he finally got to park the Jeep.

Then it was a mad scramble to unbuckle the seatbelts and they were were both practically sucking off from each other’s lips; catching exhaled breaths from their mouths, as if trying to resuscitate each other from the excruciating two months they had been apart. Junhoe pulled Hanbin over from the driver’s seat by the collar, letting those limber legs straddle him. Hanbin pulled the crank, sliding the seat further back to allow for leg space. Then Junhoe was gripping the seat of Hanbin's ass and before Hanbin could even catch his breath from their passionate kiss, Junhoe started grinding the ebullient bump of his need against Hanbin. A soft moan, tinged with ecstasy, filtered from between Hanbin’s lips at the sensations provided by this sudden and delicious friction.

“Did you miss me?” Junhoe husked biting the end of Hanbin’s lips, loving how it was all rosy and swelled so easily with just one hungry kiss.

“Yes.” Hanbin admitted willingly as Junhoe began unbuttoning the blouse he was wearing. Junhoe’s warm lips were against his collarbones, tongue flicking out to worship the curve of his clavicles, tracing downwards, curling across the cursive of his Nihilism tattoo before latching onto a budded areolae. Hanbin raked his fingers through the hair against the back of Junhoe’s skull, clutching tightly and drawing him closer. Junhoe raked his teeth against that nipple as his fingers, which had been busy unbuttoning Hanbin’s slacks, managed to dip into the briefs, encircling the turgid erection now throbbing in Junhoe’s clutches. A struggle and some contortionist moves, which impressed Junhoe later and Hanbin was in his glory; naked and all his for the taking. Junhoe was quick to dispel his own clothes down to his briefs, without much fuss.

“Lie back, precious.” Junhoe husked from between grunts of pleasure and Hanbin obeyed, elbows resting on the glove compartment as Junhoe carefully slid him back slightly. Hanbin bit his lips at the sight of Junhoe’s mouth lingering hungrily over the tip of his rod.

_Warmth_.

Junhoe’s warm mouth enclosed over his arousal like a tightened glove and Hanbin’s body instinctively heaved upwards with insurmountable pleasure. He would have slid all the way down to the Jeep’s carpeted floor if Junhoe’s big, strong hands had not propped his spine.

“Junhoe…” Hanbin, unprepared for the this surge of euphoric madness, held on to the handle at topside window of the passenger seat as if holding on for dear life, as Junhoe began sucking him with tenacity. “ _Fuck_.” Hanbin pulled himself up, living and dying for that tongue slapping, slick slurping sound Junhoe was making as he continued receiving Hanbin’s sizeable arousal into his mouth. “I’m going to come…Junhoe!” He yelled and Junhoe, replaced his mouth expertly with the velvet of his hands, stroking Hanbin without missing a beat as Hanbin panted his expulsion quite suddenly into his lover’s hand. 

~~~~~

**_Winter 2016,_ **

**_La Dolce Vita Pension_ **

The place was peaceful and Hanbin had to admit the past one week had been absolutely calming for him. His goal of not being dependent on meds and perhaps, eventually get off therapy seemed to have gotten off on a good start. He was in such a good mood that he decided to take a stroll outside today. The lady, who runs the place, had said that the second layer of snow, which had just fallen over an hour ago was perfect for making snow angels. Hanbin, who cared very little for winter, because it made him feel inimical and sickly, even when he was a child was not in his element when it came to this somnolent weather. Yet, he wrote most of his best compositions during this weather and he wondered why. He contemplated lying down onto the snow laden ground for more than a minute when he heard the piano and the voice.

Even four years after this first encounter, Hanbin was not able to tell which he heard first; the delicate tune being played or Junhoe’s voice. All he knew could remember was how both the sounds made him feel alive and hopeful once more, after years of self-imposed exile from music.

_Chestnuts roasting on an open fire/Jack frost nipping at your nose_

_Yuletide carols being sung by a choir/Folks dressed up like eskimos_

_Everybody knows/A turkey/And some mistletoe_

_Can help to make the season bright/Tiny tots with their eyes_

_All aglow/Will find it hard to sleep/Tonight_

At age five, Hanbin had been hailed as a music prodigy. He played six different instruments, could work up a storm on the piano playing classical pieces like they were childhood ditties and even dream up a score that would have put a lot of musicians to shame. His parents, who were composers and music geniuses in their own rights, always ensured he was given to best tutelage in all the different instruments he had picked up as he grew up. He lived a cloistered life; structured with multiple travels to conservatories in European continents and scheduled recitals in opera houses to play for symphony masters, who were tripping over their feet while this ’ching-chong’ boy made short work of Tchaikovsky’s intricate scores. As he grew up, Hanbin began suffering from anxiety as the pressures of public performance and expectations plied upon him by his parents and peers alike, began to take its toll on him.

At fifteen, he suffered a breakdown. It was so bad, he could not even see a harmonica. His hands would shake so bad. By seventeen, he was deemed a burnout and a failure, especially after a very public meltdown in Royal Albert Hall, which saw ten thousand people sitting, waiting and gradually murmuring loudly, as his hands began to shake atop the ivory keys. In Hanbin’s eyes, the piano seemed to have a life of its own and had begun growing fangs, snapping at his fingers.

He underwent two years of therapy where he was ‘encouraged to listen to music for leisure’ as opposed to view it as something to perform or create, and gradually, his parents gave up on him ever being ‘treated’, turning their attentions to Hanbyul, who had started to display the same talents as her older brother. Hanbin knew something had to be done and rather than relinquish their parental rights, he filed a court injunction to stop them from directing Hanbyul’s musical direction and talent using his own medical condition as evidence to support his claims. While this has caused a lot of tension between him and his own parents’, it only solidified his relationship with his sister, who was ten years younger than him and who seemed much more sensible than he would ever be.

“La Dolce Vita.” Hanbyul had told him after he complained of the multiple treatments he had undergone the last few years, imbibing medicine which only dulled his senses and did little else. “You need a holiday, a getaway, oppa. Go.” She urged and he could already hear her, fingers tapping away on her tab, probably sending him details of the place already. Moments when Hanbin was thankful at least one person in the family was completely sane.

Christmas alone was not something new for him, but listening to this rendition of ‘Merry Christmas To You’ made his heart truly warm. He stood up, forgetting all about snow angels and started walking towards the sound. There was nothing fancy about the piano playing. It was obvious that this person was a casual learner, probably two or three years in practice with no development of technique. Yet there was something he envied about the way he played. Perhaps it was the careless way the fingers were running over the keys almost haphazardly, without emphasising too much on each melody.

Then there was the voice; deep, sultry and definitely an instrument which had been trained and cultivated, yet retaining its natural charm. His wanderings brought him straight into the patio of another wing in the pension. The person had looked up in surprise at this sudden interruption, stopping his playing and singing immediately.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Hanbin exclaimed in alarm, aware that he was probably trespassing into someone else’s getaway. He stood there bowing profusely.

“Oh it’s fine. I just thought I’d be alone here, so seeing you come out of nowhere gave me quite the scare.” He exhaled. “But you’re not a ghost?” He smiled in banter and Hanbin wondered if it was possible to possess such a smile; so candidly sweet and easy to flash, even more so to witness.

“Ah-no? I assure you I am as human as they come.” Hanbin answered, his lips trying to shadow a smile in return.He was tall and there was a presence about him that was familiar, as if he too belonged on the stage and was quite comfortable on it.

“I am Koo Junhoe.” He introduced himself, standing by the piano, his dark eyes holding the shimmer of galaxies in them framed between curled lashes. Hanbin glanced at the hand offered to him. They were uncannily huge, yet there was something soft about them despite the calluses from picking guitar. So, he played more than one instrument, Hanbin thought decidedly, his shadowed smile transforming into a grin he never knew he was capable of producing.

“Kim Hanbin.” He whispered, always having that last second hesitation of someone discovering who he was. Thankfully, Junhoe gave no indication that he knew him and if he did, he sure did a wonderful job of not revealing or saying anything about it.

“Have you been here long?” Junhoe asked, gesturing for him to come in. “May I offer you a drink? I have egg nog with a touch of whisky in it.” Junhoe added, conspiratorially.

“Been here a week. No, thank you.” The place had been festooned with tinsels and boughs, all centred upon the huge Christmas tree in the middle of the room by the fireplace. Hanbin thought it was a tad bit overdone. Junhoe, who had been gazing at him as he scooped the egg nog into a cup, chuckled.

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s a bit too much, isn’t it?” Junhoe read his mind, standing beside Hanbin to survey the scene. Hanbin laughed softly, shaking his head, but realising he gave himself away with just one look. “I love Christmas. Never had the chance to celebrate it as a child so every opportunity I have I celebrate it.” Junhoe declared proudly, offering Hanbin a gingerbread cookie, which Hanbin took but did not immediately eat.

“Should you not be celebrating it with family?” Hanbin asked gingerly. Junhoe urged him to eat the cookie and Hanbin took a bite. It was sweet, gingery and had all the flavours of Christmas.

“Would be great if I had one.” Junhoe sighed. “I lost my parents when I was four. It was an accident. One I could barely remember.” Hanbin’s smile immediately disappeared.

“I’m sorry.” And Junhoe kicked back the eggnog, shaking a hand in Hanbin’s direction.

“Oh, don’t be. That’s life isn’t it? Unpredictable, wild and ungoverned. You try to keep it controlled but you never can, so you try your best to do the next best thing, which is to continue living it to the fullest. Otherwise, what’s the point?” Junhoe was looking into the fire as he said this and Hanbin was sure then and there, that he wanted to be around Junhoe a little bit more if it was possible because he looked so unafraid, so courageous despite of all he had gone through in life.

“Are you a performer?” Hanbin asked. “I’m sorry, if I’m too forward with my questions but your piano playing and your voice tells me that it’s what you do for a living.” Junhoe was scooping more of the egg nog, gesturing to Hanbin if he wanted some and Hanbin nodded, this time.

“Well, I’m surprised that you did not recognise me, but then you have been inactive musically for how long? Five or six years, right?” Junhoe asked. “And I’m sorry for being forward about this. I knew you the moment you turned into that patio. As a matter of fact, I saw you took the hike at the ridge two days ago, but decided that you wanted to be alone. No one comes here for the company.” Junhoe surmised. Two days ago. The hike. Hanbin bit his lips. Had he been crazy to contemplate throwing himself off from the jagged, snow-packed cliffs? There seem to be only emptiness in place of his spaced-out self. Hanbin stared into the cup of egg nog Junhoe handed him, unable to respond to anything presently. He watched as Junhoe made his way back to the bench in front of the piano. Fingers on keys, light and breezy, Hanbin had forgotten what sounds made his heart do. Junhoe was regarding him quietly, smiling and humming and Hanbin stood closer to him, finding pleasure in watching him play.

“Can you sing something for me?” Hanbin requested. Junhoe nodded, smiling in a commiserating manner. 

_What would I do without your smart mouth/Drawin’ me in and you kickin’ me out_

_You’ve got my head spinnin’/No kiddin’/I can’t pin you down_

_What’s goin’ on in your beautiful mind/I’m on your magical, mystery ride_

_And I’m so dizzy/ Don’t know what hit me/But I’ll be alright_

_My head’s under water/But I’m breathing fine_

_You’re crazy/And I’m out of my mind_

_Cause all of me/Loves all of you_

_Love your curves/And all your edges_

_All your perfect imperfections_

_Give your all to me/I’ll give my all to you_

_You’re my end/And my beginnin’_

_Even when I lose/I’m winnin’_

Hanbin had watched Junhoe closely as he played, liking how his tapered fingers ran across the keys, appreciating the tenor and rasp in that voice and especially, loving how Junhoe’s face emoted the words he was belting out, note for note. Junhoe’s serenade made him realise how he missed the processing aspects of creating, the thrill of finding the muse and chasing after it, until you could place it into notes or words.

~~~~~

Hanbin sat up, panting hoarsely, fingers unbuckling Junhoe’s belt even as Junhoe began plying Hanbin’s exertions, which had been collected in his palms between the smooth swell of Hanbin’s derriere. Slowly, Hanbin unsheathed Junhoe’s engorged length, crammed with desire and a readiness to spill. Junhoe gazed at Hanbin steadily, liking the way his fringe now fell over his eyes naturally, slowly riding the velvet smoothness of Hanbin’s hand with thrusts, which had been calculated and patient. His fingers were steadily charting Hanbin’s tightened passage; one at a time. Hanbin groaned deeply as Junhoe continued opening him up slowly so he could easily take in his girth and length.

“I’m ready, baby.” Hanbin husked and Junhoe nodded. He cupped his hands on the underside of Hanbin’s creamy thighs, guiding his turgid erection along the parted delta of Hanbin’s derriere, searching for the promised land. “Junhoe.” Hanbin called out, as he felt Junhoe’s tip rimming slowly around the puckered entrance of his hole.

Then Junhoe was inside, not completely, but just enough to feel the insides of Hanbin’s walls welcoming him tightly. Junhoe gazed up, drinking in the sharp jawline and the graceful neck now offered to him. He rained a torrent of heavy kisses against the veined and undulating landscape of Hanbin’s jugular making Hanbin moan and begin to grind, pushing Junhoe deeper into him.

“ _Hanbin_.” Junhoe panted heavily, trying to keep his self-control in check. Hanbin’s eyes glittered across Junhoe’s face, now set in a rictus of agony fused with the promised pleasure of being so deeply entrenched inside his lover. He looked strong and beautiful. “I missed you.” He exhaled when he realised that Hanbin was still gazing intently at him.

”I missed you too, baby.” Hanbin responded, his voice barely a whisper within the confines of the Jeep, now becoming a little sauna filled with the steamy outpouring of their passions for each other. “Take me, now, Junhoe. _Take me_.” Hanbin urged and Junhoe nodded weakly, gripping those thighs, and grinding them into him. Junhoe’s arms latched around the underside of Hanbin’s arms, fingers hooking onto the crook of both shoulders and he began to thrust into Hanbin in earnest. Hanbin held Junhoe’s head tightly against his chest, holding on as Junhoe rocked him into a series of unforgiving thrusts, which was shaking the frame of the Jeep.

“I’m coming, precious.” Junhoe groaned loudly and Hanbin grunted softly in reply. A shout, the shudder of their heaving bodies and then a stillness borne from satiated silence filled the air. Hanbin, like a balloon emptied of air, fell against his lover, drained of energy and shiny with the sheen of sweat, panted against Junhoe’s shoulder, eyes shut with unspoken bliss. Junhoe dropped the windows, allowing the cool air from the garage to fill the Jeep, inhaling and exhaling with renewed vigour, contented and spent.

“You should not be gone for more than two months the next time around.” Hanbin stated wistfully, pecking his lips against Junhoe’s bare, muscular shoulder.

“You should have come with me.” Junhoe rebuked, as he looked around for Hanbin’s blouse, found it crumpled against the dashboard and folded it over those pale, thin shoulders.

“I’d rather wait here for you to return.” Hanbin professed slowly, easing himself up and off Junhoe, back to the driver’s seat. Junhoe grabbed his own discarded blouse and jacket from off the floor, exiting the Jeep slowly and pulling up his pants which had pooled around his ankles while they had been busy satisfying each other. Junhoe carried his luggage and wheeled it towards the door that led to the house they had shared for two years now. Hanbin turned on the lights and Junhoe gasped aloud.

It was less than a month to Christmas and of course, this year Junhoe was already thinking that he would be busy putting up decorations even if they were rushed but apparently Hanbin had decided to do it knowing he would not have the time. There were tinsel hung from every part of the ceiling, they billowed in bright cherry red and summer green, colours that were gaudy, over-the-top and absolutely suitable for Christmas. Hanbin had hung knitted stockings by the fireplace labeled with ‘Precious’ and ‘Baby’, their secret nicknames for each other. There were even cards hung across the mantel and every tinsel had an actual mistletoe twirling in the middle of it and Junhoe chuckled knowing it had been done on purpose because who would not like the idea of kissing Hanbin every chance he got. 

“You did this?” Junhoe muttered in disbelief, stepping down into the alcove where the most beautiful, white tree towered with the brightest golden star already touching the ceiling. Ornaments in gold, red and green had been draped ostentatiously around the tree. Most were heart-shaped in size and Junhoe saw that each had pictures of them they had taken over the years. 

“Do you like it?” Hanbin asked, the indulgent grin across his lips was truly a sight to behold. 

“Like it?!” Junhoe replied in disbelief. “I love it! Look at these personal ornaments! The effort! Wow, Hanbin, just…wow!” Junhoe enthused at the variety of wrapped presents already lining the bottom of the Christmas tree.

~~~~~

**_Winter 2017,_ **

**_The S(e)oul Studios_ **

“NO. No. No. No. No. No!” Hanbin barked from behind the glass panels of the studio. He had cut the music off and Junhoe gazed at him, eyes wide clueless from behind the mic. It had been a year since they met and almost a year since Hanbin wrote him the songs from his third album, which got him his first platinum and his first Daesang, since he became a musician almost two years ago. Hanbin’s songwriting and Junhoe’s delivery had turned them into one of South Korea’s successful duo, earning them the acknowledgement from both critics’ and the general public. 

In Junhoe, Hanbin found the perfect singer who could deliver the songs he wrote with sincere emotions and a charisma that went beyond the stage. 

In Hanbin, Junhoe found a composer with a penchant for intricate, but poignant melodies and words, which could touch people’s heart immediately.

Together, they seem unstoppable, except for Hanbin’s dedication which sometimes bordered on the impossible.

“What now?” Junhoe evoked from behind the mic.

“The way you expressed that last line. It does not have to be so…animated. Just express it normally, almost nonchalantly.” Hanbin was intoning now and Junhoe took note of it, starting from the top. Hanbin was already turning red with anger. He even took it out on the sound engineer, spurring Junhoe to announce that they were done recording for today much to Hanbin’s consternation. “What the hell do you think you are doing?!” Hanbin confronted Junhoe as he dismissed everyone from the studio. Junhoe refused to answer him, that normally amicable face now drawn into a solemn mien which only forced a silence from Hanbin which seem to be full of unmitigated fury. Once the studio was emptied, Junhoe had gone to the vending machine outside, got two cups of strong black coffee and brought it back into the studio where Hanbin sat in front of the panel still sulky, mulling over today’s fruitless efforts. Junhoe passed one of the coffee to him, regarding that sharpened features.

Junhoe hated to admit that somewhere between being Hanbin’s musical partner and his muse, he had fallen in deeply in love with the man. It was a bitter pill to swallow, of course, this attraction and Hanbin was just as clueless as they come. He was so attuned to his creative mind and the directions that it was steering him that he was incapable of making any emotional connection to everyone else involved in the process.

“Do you know what day it is today, Hanbin-ah?” Junhoe asked after sipping on his coffee. Hanbin’s gaze only sharpened at Junhoe, shaking his head petulantly. “It’s the twenty-fifth of December, Hanbin. It’s Christmas.” Junhoe duly informed him. Something lighted Hanbin’s eyes, something warm and almost humane. Junhoe nodded, as if to emphasise the realisation that was dawning into Hanbin’s mind. “We’ve worked together for more than a year now and I must say that while it has brought us many accolades and success, I don’t think I can continue doing this anymore, Hanbin.” Junhoe finally said, sipping more of the coffee, tears culminating in his eyes. Hanbin had sat up, his anger dissipating immediately at Junhoe’s sudden and unexpected announcement.

“What...do you mean, Junhoe?” Hanbin blinked, gazing closely at Junhoe’s face, very much aware that Junhoe was on the verge of crying, feeling helpless at this emotional outburst Junhoe was displaying. The past one year had been nothing but miraculous for Hanbin. He had gotten his groove back, writing and composing, only this time it was centred in and around Junhoe’s voice; that deep, raspy and powerful voice that Hanbin felt at times, seem to cut through the darkness of his mind and draw him out every single time into the sunshine. Hanbin felt carefree for the first time in his adult life, producing content which made him genuinely happy and which earned him the proper acknowledgement he had been deprived of since he turned seventeen. He realised that rather than being onstage, performing in front of thousands, he preferred producing and creating to give courage to millions. Junhoe’s voice was the sling from which he would catapult his intentions and for awhile, it was all he could think of.

“What I mean is, I can no longer do this, Hanbin. I cannot continue working with the man I love, while he is intent on going down that path of self-destruction, which had ruined him in the first place. I don’t think my heart will be able to take it.” Junhoe professed and the tears were flowing now. Hanbin gaped at this blatant confession, for the first time feeling a constriction down his throat, which was not going to disappear, simply with the act of jotting down prose on paper or the wave of fingers running over ivory keys to structure a sonnet. Junhoe was talking about feelings; of love as if it was something tangible and Hanbin, for all his genius and creativity, simply found it hard to wrap his mind around such a theory. “I’ve decided that it was time for this partnership to come to an end.” Junhoe was saying now and for some unexplained reason, Hanbin felt something akin to a stab to his heart hearing that statement from him. “I’m flying off to Europe tonight. I’m not sure when I’ll be back so maybe, if you do want to, you can find someone else to sing your songs.” Junhoe concluded. Hanbin could only gaze at Junhoe’s back walking way from him haplessly.

Hanbin did the only thing he could think of when Junhoe left. He consulted his sister.

“Omaigawd, _oppa,_ are you daft?!” Hanbyul exhaled in frustration over Skype, rolling her eyes at Hanbin. “I swear I would disown you if you don’t come to your senses right now, Kim Hanbin!” She added, walking to and fro in front of the screen, hands on her waist.

“What did I do wrong?” Hanbin asked, palms up, gazing at Hanbyul from the screen with no inkling as to what his sister was getting at.

“ _Oppa_! How did you feel when you got to writing music again last year?” She asked now, clutching her ThinkPad tightly. Hanbin shrugged. It was like heaving a huge sigh of relief and relinquishing a heavy burden he had carried for way too long. Until he met Junhoe, Hanbin never even considered that he would ever make music again. Until he met Junhoe, Hanbin never even thought he would continue living. Hanbyul was gazing at him softly now, as if recognising the epiphany that was slowly dawning upon him.

“I’m gonna have to call you back, Byul-ah!” Hanbin cried urgently and Hanbyul nodded, smiling through her tears, realising that her older brother, who had been lost for most of his life, had finally found himself and ready to grow into being the man he was meant to be.

Hanbin ran across the departure hall, eyes scanning the gate number for flights leaving to Europe.

He ran because, Junhoe had his phone off.

He ran because he knew that if he lost Junhoe this time, he would lose everything.

He finally spotted Junhoe as he reached the end of the hall, hunkered over and out of breath. He shouted Junhoe’s name and everyone turned. Junhoe, who had his shades on, had turned, surprised to see Hanbin, looking like a fine mess. It was quite the rare sight, Hanbin with his hair mussed and sweating buckets, because he had searched through the whole airport, looking for Junhoe. Hanbin grabbed Junhoe’s wrist before he could pass his flight tickets and passport to the bewildered stewardess manning the counter. He pulled Junhoe away from the gate, dragging him past the check-in counters, the blur of tourists and duty-free shops before finally finding the escape route staircase landing.

“Hanbin? Hanbin! What the hell do you think you are doing?” Junhoe had cried angrily, his handsome face flushed with anger. Hanbin pulled him to the nearest wall.

“You can’t go, Junhoe!” Hanbin was saying, gazing at this man, who brought him more joy the past one year, than anyone had ever done in his entire life. “You can’t leave! I won’t allow it!” Hanbin insisted and Junhoe raked his hands through his hair in frustrations.

“You can’t just simply make demands and expect me to blindly obey you. I’m not your slave. You make music at your own terms, without even thinking about how other people feel. That’s just not fair!” Junhoe was arguing and Hanbin thought he had never seen anyone as beautiful as a furious Junhoe. How had he lived the last one year having Junhoe as a muse and never noticing how thestubborn fire in those eyes burned, or the way his lips pouted like a spoilt child when he was angry. Hanbin cornered him slowly to the wall.

“Yes, I was wrong! I am stupid for thinking that everyone is at my beck and call. I should have practiced better judgement and realised how much I was hurting the people around me. Especially the one I love.” Hanbin had ameliorated, as he declared the last sentence. Junhoe gazed at him, stumped now and at a loss for words.

“Love? You’re…you’re in love with someone?” Junhoe asked and Hanbin noticed how his lips quivered at the thought that Hanbin might be in love with someone that was probably not him. It was heady, this thought that he would be capable of loving someone and that someone was just as in love with him.

“No, not just anyone. Someone who is special to me, someone who taught me that in order to create something meaningful, I need to put the feelings and sentiments of others into consideration and not just worry about the process or nature of the work.” Hanbin cupped Junhoe’s face now. “That someone is you, _pabo-ya_. I love you.” Hanbin husked, planting his face upwards, gazing into those eyes and noticing for the first time how the galaxies in those dark orbs seemed lucid and alight with animation.

“Hanbin, are you even aware of what you are saying now?” Junhoe muttered in disbelief, this time those lips quivering in anticipation was all Hanbin needed to see. Hanbin nodded, tilting his head, lips puckered and then they were kissing with complete joy and abandonment.

~~~~~

They had cleaned up and Junhoe had made his special egg nog. They sat by the fire, feeling cosy and warm, very much aware that this moment was special. It was Christmas and they were together. That was all that mattered. Junhoe held Hanbin tightly under the covers of the thick, checkered blanket, the crackling sound of the flames as it licked the firewood was lulling and extremely reassuring. The only light in the room came from the glow of the fireplace and the twinkle of the fairy lights from the tree. Hanbin turned, cradled between Junhoe’s legs, resting against those familiar, muscular arms, gazing up at the fine features now admiring him in return.

“It’s good to have you back, baby.” Hanbin professed, fingers caressing Junhoe’s damp hair tenderly before cupping Junhoe’s jaw and drawing him downwards for a kiss. Hanbin’s tongue flicked slowly between Junhoe’s parted lips, tasting an exotic mix of cinnamon, cream and whisky in that mouth. Junhoe pushed his soft lips deeper, greedy for more, after being deprived for two whole months. Hanbin was naked under the blanket and so was he. It was almost natural that Junhoe’s hand began fondling Hanbin’s breast, fingering the budded nipples with abandonment. Junhoe laid Hanbin down onto the carpeted floor, pinning him gently, aligning their arousals and grinding deliciously against each other as he continued kissing. The air was tinctured with soft moans of pleasure as Junhoe’s tongue began a warm trail down that sculpted body, past the tattoos, licking that soft tummy before enveloping Hanbin’s tumescent package into the soft and damp pillow of his mouth. “Junhoe.” Hanbin arched upwards, thrusting into the lush velvet boudoir of Junhoe’s lips.

Junhoe pulled Hanbin up, lying on his back and placing Hanbin on top of him fingers finding the pre-cum spilling over the folds of both their erections. Junhoe poured lubricant into his palm, applying the cool gel slowly up and down their length, rubbing with focus as Hanbin began grinding deliciously into his hands. Hanbin squatted over Junhoe, biting lips as he guided Junhoe’s lube-laden cock head against the tight passage of his hole.

“Slowly, precious. I don’t want to hurt you.” Junhoe intoned, brows furrowed in concern. Hanbin chuckled, grinding his cock against the valley of Junhoe’s happy trail, slowly and eventually pushing Junhoe’s length into him with heightened excitement. “You are so damn tight, Hanbin-ah.” Junhoe sat up slowly, thrusting once to see where they were at and Hanbin muttered a string of curses.

“ _Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard._ ” Hanbin demanded softly and Junhoe acquiesced, grinding and pulling Hanbin to the hilt. Hanbin groaned in pure pleasure and Junhoe began to bounce him against his lap. They moved in unison now, melded together by ardent desire and chasing after the rhythm only their bodies seem to recognised.

“I’m coming, precious.” Junhoe was groaning, his voice becoming as urgent as his unrelenting thrusts, which was swinging Hanbin upwards, collecting momentum, before ultimately collapsing into a shuddering, earth-shattering implosion, as they both came simultaneously. There was a deafening silence as the two of them settled down gently back onto the lush carpet, panting heavily, listening to the unified rhythm of their beating hearts.

As he laid there, Hanbin was quite suddenly reminded of the article he had read tonight, when he had came to pick Junhoe up. Something about how stars shine due to the burning of hydrogen into helium within the cores, creating heavy elements. He could not help, but correlate this to the theorem that both he and Junhoe were very much like these two light, yet conflicting elements; how it almost seem impossible for them to co-exist but somehow, against all odds, they do, colliding only to create a magical brightness which was meant to be. It was weird, but it seemed as if Hanbin could almost believe in the powers of fate only when it came to Junhoe. 

**END**


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